Disclaimer & Spoilers: See Chapter 1
Rating: T, for language and adult insinuations.
A/N: Well...I've been completely overwhelmed by the feedback from this fic so far, so thank you all for sticking with it and for being so kind in your reviews, I really do appreciate the support. Hope this chapter won't disappoint :)
Grace yawned quietly as she glanced at the clock on the wall, blinking her eyelids rapidly in a desperate bid to stay awake. They had been monitoring Britten's movements continuously for three hours now, ever since they had arrived back in their suite, had watched him sulk briefly before beginning to converse with other people, even dancing with one or two women. Presently, he was seated in the plush lounge area annexed to the ballroom, his posture relaxed as he engaged in what appeared to be an intimate conversation with a young blond woman, a brandy glass in his hand, his head thrown back with laughter. Grace allowed her gaze to shift from the computer screen and towards Boyd, who was seated at the desk, his brow furrowed in concentration, his shoulders hunched as he surveyed the transmitted scene. She sighed softly as she drank him in, his features half hidden in shadow, the intense focus ingrained in his posture, and she felt her chest flood with warmth as memories of his lips grazing hers flashed suddenly through her mind. God, I can't do this to myself, she thought with anguish, the motivation behind his actions instantly dousing the rising heat of her recall. It's work....It's just work and that's all it'll ever be to him....I could've been anybody tonight and he would have done the same thing....Swallowing hard, she forced the raw ball in her stomach towards the base of her spine and took a breath to address him.
"You'll get square eyes," she said softly, unable to prevent another yawn stretching enthusiastically in her throat despite the protests of her mind, her body burrowing deeper of its own accord beneath the faux fur blanket swathing her limbs.
Boyd blinked and looked briefly towards her before returning his attention to the screen. "You should go to bed," he said gruffly, evident exhaustion wrapping itself about his tone, one hand straying to his neck in an attempt to relieve the tension coiled in his muscles.
"I thought we were going to work in shifts throughout the night...?"
"Change of plan."
She sighed. "Boyd...."
"What?"
"You're obviously exhausted. What do you think you can possibly achieve by...?"
"Grace, please." He sighed loudly, fractiously, and half-turned in his seat to face her. "I don't want to argue about this. I'm trying to spare you a long and tedious night of surveillance so don't throw it back in my face, all right? Just go to bed."
Grace held up a palm in defeat, too weary, both physically and emotionally, to protest further despite the slight sting of his words, and she rose gradually from her curled position on the couch, padding softly towards the bathroom. She reappeared moments later, her skin tingling pleasantly from her moisturiser, and began walking slowly towards the bed on the other side of the room, slipping gratefully beneath the silken covers and allowing them to envelope her in a comfortable cocoon of gold and crimson. "Boyd?" she called gently as she settled herself but before sleep could devour her completely, "You will wake me, won't you? If anything happens, I mean."
He looked at her incredulously across the room, his eyebrows curving upwards. "You're not serious."
"Of course I'm serious. I don't want you to go charging after him on your own like a bloody...."
"Well, who else is there, Grace? Do you really want me to hesitate if Britten grabs a girl and drags her off somewhere?"
"You call for back-up. Promise me that's what you'll do."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"He could be dangerous, Boyd...."
"And I'm not a wet-behind-the-ears PC, Grace. I'll be fine." He paused, his features softening as he noted the anxious frown creasing her brow. "You don't have to worry about me, you know...."
"Now who's being ridiculous...?"
"....And, besides, I'm not wholly convinced anything's going to happen. I think Britten's only got eyes for you."
She groaned at his words, allowing her head to fall back against the softness of the pillows. "Lucky old me, eh?"
He smiled fondly before his eyes flickered back towards the blinking equipment amassed on the desk. "Good night, Grace."
"Night." She mumbled in reply, her aching muscles relaxing gradually as siren tendrils of oblivion seeped deeply into her consciousness.
Boyd sighed loudly into the inky blackness of the quiet room, his eyes wide and unblinking, his mind whirring noisily inside his skull despite the lateness of the hour, and he shifted restlessly beneath the soft blanket covering his body, trying in vain to arrange his limbs into a more comfortable position on the couch. He winced momentarily as lightning bolts of pain lanced through his lower back, his muscles protesting angrily against the cushions of his makeshift bed, and he blew out a slow breath, determined to control the spasms jolting enthusiastically towards his spine. He groaned almost instantly at the apparent futility of his efforts, and he sat up, planting his feet onto the floor and rising before folding himself almost in half, his hands resting on his thighs, revelling in the lengthening sensation across his back, the ache beginning gradually to subside. Christ, getting old's a terrible thing, he thought ruefully, you bloody fall apart piece by piece and, if you're lucky, your mind stays intact just long enough to realise what's happening before you....
"Boyd?" Grace's voice, thick and husky with sleep, sounded throatily from across the room and he grimaced into the darkness.
"Sorry, Grace. I didn't mean to wake you."
"You alright?" she asked, her soft tones slick with slumber, her silhouette becoming visible as she began to raise herself up onto her elbows.
"I'm fine, go back to...." he sucked in his breath suddenly, sharply, cutting his sentence abruptly short as a fresh wave of pain seared through his back, and he swore softly beneath his breath, blinking repeatedly as the room became bathed in a diffuse amber light.
Grace retrieved her hand from the lamp switch and sat up further in the bed, her eyebrows knitted in a frown as she took in his crumpled form. "Is it your back?"
He grunted in response, his features contorting with discomfort as his hands moved to massage his muscles, stretching upright to adjust his body weight, an attempt to lessen the load on his lumbar area. "God, I hate being old, Grace," he said, through gritted teeth, "a few nights on a couch and my muscles are shot to pieces."
She smiled sympathetically, guilt streaking her cobalt eyes. "I'm sorry about that."
"It's not your fault. I insisted you take the bed, remember? Although for the life of me, I don't know what I was thinking when I made that ridiculous offer."
Amusement deepened the creases at the corners of her mouth. "I think you were trying to be chivalrous..."
He barked a brief laugh before wincing again. "Join the twenty first century, Grace. I thought you modern women were supposed to spurn chivalry at every opportunity?"
"Are you saying I should have gratefully declined your offer, then?"
"Too bloody right. But hindsight's a bitch."
Grace paused briefly, uncertainty flickering through her chest as an idea began to gradually take shape through the dusky haze of her sleep addled mind. This could be a huge mistake, her unconscious warned her darkly, but she pushed the thought away and took a breath to speak. "Boyd...."
He grimaced once more before looking up at her, the sudden hesitancy in her tone catching his attention. "What?"
"Well...," she broke off and sighed, frustrated by her inability to vocalise her idea. "Look, don't take this the wrong way but....wouldn't it make sense if you...?"
"If I, what?" He groaned, shifting his position as another wave of pain overtook him. "Spit it out, Grace, I'm getting rapidly down to my last nerve here."
"Alright." She took a deep, cleansing breath, steeling herself for his inevitable reaction to her forthcoming suggestion. "Why don't you come and get in here with me?"
Boyd's chestnut eyes flew to hers, his eyebrows rising almost to his hairline, shock pervading his chest at her unexpected proposition. "What?" he managed finally, throatily, convinced he had misheard her.
Grace felt a hot flush begin to creep up her neck but she forced herself to persevere with her offer. "It makes sense. Your back won't be able to stand any more nights on the couch and this is a huge bed, there's plenty of space...."
"I don't...."
"It's just practicality, Boyd. It would be nothing more than two colleagues sharing a space to rest in, that's all."
He looked at her intensely, unsure of the wisdom of her proposal but suddenly finding he wanted nothing more than to accept it, his aching body craving the prospect of a comfortable bed, his weary muscles eagerly anticipating the feel of the mattress, the sensation of the silken sheets against his skin . Nothing to do with the fact that she's between those sheets, of course.... He pushed the rogue thought firmly away and addressed her. "Are you sure, Grace?"
She gave him a small, reassuring smile. "I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't."
His expression mirrored hers as he caught the sparkle flickering lightly in her sapphire eyes. "Although I suppose you're reserving the right to kick me out again at any time and for any reason?"
Her smile widened, relief pulsing through her body at his ready acceptance. "Of course."
"And what about squatter's rights...?" He continued teasingly, even as he began to cross the room towards her, lifting the covers to slide into bed beside her, his muscles singing with pleasure as his body sank instantly into the soft envelopment, a quiet moan escaping his lips, his dark eyes falling closed with rapture.
Grace turned onto her side to face him, electricity humming unexpectedly through her bloodstream, butterflies tickling her stomach as she watched him settle himself beneath the sheets, the reality of his presence in the bed beside her causing her pulse to quicken against her skin. "Better?" she asked after several moments had passed, amusement colouring her tones at his blissful expression.
Boyd could only manage another deep groan in reply, the sound resonating through the breadth of his chest and Grace laughed softly, before stretching up to turn off the light, plunging the room into darkness once more.
"Christ, I may never get out." he said eventually, his voice rich with relaxation, his body shifting instinctively towards hers as he sought a satisfactory position for his limbs. "No wonder you've looked so rested these past couple of days, Grace."
"Should I take that to mean I don't always, then?"
He groaned once more, this time in theatrical mock frustration. "Oh, God, thirty seconds we've been sharing a bed and you're already sounding like a bloody woman...."
She chuckled softly into the darkness. "Hmm."
"....And before you say anything else, I know you're a woman, Grace, I'm not completely blind or moronic, come to that. You know what I meant."
"Do I?"
"Don't be so obtuse. It's the middle of the night, for God's sake, I'm half asleep."
"Meaning I should cut you some slack?"
"Yeah."
She laughed, relenting easily. "Alright. Sleep well, Boyd."
"I plan to." He yawned loudly, exhaustion pervading every nerve of his body. "Night, Grace."
He rolled over onto his back then, curling one hand beneath his head and allowing his dark eyes to fall slowly closed, warm contentment filling his chest as he listened to the gentle rhythm of her breathing beside him. Several minutes later, as he began gradually to relax, a nagging concern jolted him suddenly back to alertness and he sighed, blinking once more into the darkness as guilt prickled distastefully at the edges of his consciousness. What if I've fucked this up? What if something...?
"Grace?" he ventured quietly, an intense need for reassurance filling him as anxiety pulled sharply at his stomach.
"Hmm?" the profiler mumbled softly, reluctantly, as the sound of his voice pulled her firmly back from the alluring precipice of unconsciousness once more.
"Did we....earlier tonight....did we....do the wrong thing, do you think?"
Grace felt her stomach tighten instantly in reaction to his words, waves of nausea rolling towards her throat and she took a deep breath. He's going to say how much he regrets it, how it meant nothing, how he.... "I don't....I just followed your lead, Boyd. I thought that's what we were...?"
He caught her meaning instantly and was suddenly floored by the memory of her mouth, the imprint of her velvet lips against his, the feel of her sensuous curves beneath his hands. Shit.... He shifted uncomfortably, surprised to find his body beginning to react of its own accord as the pleasant remembrance flooded his senses. "God, no, Grace, I don't mean that...."
"Well, what, then?"
"I just meant, did we do the wrong thing in leaving him when we did? Leaving him to potentially attack someone else."
She sighed softly, guilty relief filling her chest at his revelation. "You've been watching him all night, Boyd. You've barely taken your eyes off that computer monitor."
"I'm not watching him now, though, am I?"
"Because you saw him go back to his room, presumably. Alone."
"He could have come back out, gone back to the bar...."
"You can't do this to yourself...."
"I'm being negligent in my duties as a Police Officer, Grace. If he attacks someone when I should have been watching, I don't...."
"It wouldn't be your fault," she said firmly. "If Dyson had wanted him watched round the clock she should have assigned more officers for surveillance, it's as simple as that. For God's sake, you're not super human, Boyd, you have to sleep some time."
"I don't think that'd make me feel any better if something happens, Grace."
"Well, that's because you've got a conscience. This kind of second-guessing yourself, it's....it's normal in this sort of situation, Boyd...."
"Why do I sense a 'but' at the end of that sentence?"
"....But you've got to be realistic about what you, as one human being, can achieve in terms of protecting someone against an attack that may not even happen in actuality."
He sighed noisily. "So, what you're really saying is I should just let it go?"
"I know it's not easy."
"It's not, Grace. Not easy at all."
The melancholic edge to his voice brought a lump of emotion to her throat and she was unable to stop herself from reaching across to him, her hand connecting gently with his upper chest, the cotton of his t-shirt soft beneath her palm. "I know what you're thinking, Boyd...."
He gave a cold, brief laugh. "You adding that to your C.V, then?"
"....and the same thing applies. You were not responsible for Luke's death just because you weren't with him twenty four, seven. Alright?"
"Grace...." His voice was pained, her name leaving his body in almost a sob.
"You've got to start believing it."
"Christ, I'm still a long way from believing it. I'm not sure I ever will."
"Because the grief is still so raw. It'll take time, Boyd. You just have to be patient with yourself."
He sighed shakily. "Sometimes, the guilt, it's so strong....I can't even....function. It's all I can do to get out of bed in the morning."
"I know," she replied softly, her palm tracing soothing circles across his chest, "But the point is that you are getting out of bed in the morning. You're coping, despite the immensity of the trauma you've suffered...."
"Barely coping, Grace."
"But coping, all the same. And, in time, as you start to heal, you'll come to recognise that you were in no way responsible for what happened to Luke, you...."
"I was a fucking terrible father. If I'm not responsible for him, then who is?"
"Boyd, he was twenty four years old. I'm not saying that the way you were when he was a child didn't affect him, we all do that to our kids, whether knowingly or not, but...."
"I should have been there, Grace...."
"....He was an adult. You can't be responsible for the feelings and behaviour of another adult, whether or not they're your child."
"But I set him on that path. If I'd been different when he was kid, if I'd been around more, if I hadn't had such a fucking awful marriage to his mother...." he broke off and sighed again, his chest heaving beneath her hand as he struggled to contain his despair. "He'd still be alive."
"You don't know that."
"I just....I should have been able to help him, Grace."
"You tried," her voice was barely a whisper, empathy etched into her tones, "he didn't want it, Boyd. You can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped."
"I should have tried harder."
She sighed softly. "Are we going down the super human route again?"
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning....that the self-destructive state of mind Luke was in.....unless he allowed someone to help him, nothing anyone could have done would have made any difference."
"Still, I...."
"Feeling guilty comes naturally to us as parents, remember, whether or not our children are still alive." she paused, a wave of sadness threatening to crush her chest as she pondered her next sentence. "There's not a day that goes by where I don't think about the child that I lost but....the guilt has lessened, Boyd. And I have far more reason to feel guilty over that child's death than you ever do over Luke's."
He reached up a hand to squeeze hers as it lay against his chest. "That was different, Grace. You were young, you'd been let down...."
"I wasn't that young. I just couldn't see any other way out after Harry....," she broke off, swallowing hard, willing away the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. "My point is that, yes, you will probably always feel guilt about Luke but....hopefully, over time, as the grief starts to heal, those feelings of guilt will begin to fade. And you'll just learn how to live with it instead of letting it consume you."
"Words of the wise?"
She laughed briefly yet mirthlessly. "Just someone who's been there. Albeit in very different circumstances but, still."
He was quiet for a few moments in the darkness, then, allowing the painful empathy and understanding in her voice to wash over him, feeling undeniably comforted by the connection of their bodies, her fingers warm and relaxed against his. Momentarily, he raised the back of her hand to his mouth, murmuring his thanks and brushing a gentle kiss across her subtly perfumed skin before turning her palm upwards to graze his lips atop the delicate veins of her wrist, resisting a powerful urge to lap his tongue against her pulse point. God, I want to taste you everywhere.....
"You're welcome," she said tenderly, before retrieving her hand from his, trying to ignore the electric tingling of her skin from his kiss, the thudding of her heart as she imagined his lips continuing their intimate exploration of her body. "Now, let's get some sleep, eh? We've had a long day."
"Yeah. Night, Grace."
He rolled away from her onto his side then, the perpetual anguish in his chest over his son gradually beginning to subside to a dull ache as he mulled over her recent words in his memory. God, how do you do that, Grace? How do you always know what to say to make me feel better? He smiled slightly into the darkness as he pondered the question, warm sentimentality spreading throughout his body, her gentle face filling his mind. The recall of her hand against his chest, her skin against his mouth caused his smile to retreat suddenly, his senses flooding with an altogether more fundamental instinct to her proximity, and he sighed softly as his body began to betray him, arousal pulsing steadily southwards towards his groin. It's like being a teenager again, he thought irritably, except I'm fifty six years old, for fuck's sake....and....it's Grace, someone I've known for years, someone I've never really thought about like that before....but who I can't seem to stop thinking about now....Oh, God, I'm so hard, I'm in pain....He sighed again, the air rattling noisily through his bones as he willed the return of equilibrium to his bloodstream, of calm to his body. Momentarily, he became aware of the futility of his efforts and he groaned quietly into the darkness with frustration. It was going to be a long night.